


the ever-gnawing sickness of memory is a lot to deal with

by harmfulmyths



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gender Incongruence, Implied/Referenced Incest, Lowercase, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmfulmyths/pseuds/harmfulmyths
Summary: like, how do you reconcile love and pain?
Relationships: Kuwata Leon/Nakajima Kanon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	the ever-gnawing sickness of memory is a lot to deal with

your first memories are of her. you remember the day you first met your baby cousin. she was such a small baby, and she scared you at first. you didn't know why. babies were kinda ugly. all the adults cooed over her because she was a girl so you went to play outside and threw a bunch of rocks at a metal pail: clang, clang, clang. that was a boring game.

throw a bunch of balls at boys. thwack thwack thwack. baseball -- now that was a boring game.

like, how do you reconcile love and pain? because that's what you know. you love so much that it hurts. people love you and it hurts. you hurt and you love it, because there's nothing else you know how to do.

you cannot stop loving your family. you cannot remember to. you stumble into them after baseball practices and fawn over them. oh, how nice, how good, to love me love me love me. it's like pitching to a wall, though. good practice, but every ball bounces off. what a fucking dumb mood.

she is there. you love her. you love her. you love her. you feel her eyes on you. you're making things up, you know, projecting. it's not bad enough to count. you don't want it to count. you love her.

no, kanon. i'm sorry, no. she doesn't want to hurt you. she wouldn't do this if she understood. you know that. that's the part that hurts the most, that she really does you, and you really love her. no, kanon. i'm sorry, but no.

sometimes people do things when they're mad that they don't remember. sometimes people throw a thousand fungoes, and one catches you square in the chest. you stumble to the side, and breathing hurts. it bruises, blues blossoming across your ribs. you know he threw that ball to hit. he was your friend, why would he do that? when you ask him later, he gets mad and yells back at you. he doesn't even remember. maybe he won't even remember this confession.

no, kanon. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.

at some point you figure out hatred and it's such a fucking relief. it's your brand-new emotion, and you're going to use the shit out of it. you hate school. you hate baseball. you hate the heat and getting sweaty. you hate trashy pop songs and enka and sitting politely. you hate boys. you hate reading. you hate classrooms and you hate fat people and you hate your teammates and you hate ugly chicks and you hate cereal and you hate streams of consciousness. you hate kuwata leon.

the last one was a mistake, maybe, because now you need other people to love you for you. shit. fuck. hey, uh, kanon, you want to get back here for a second?

so it's girls girls girls kanon stop.

it doesn't count. does it count? if you agree, does that mean the bruises will fade? you're so tired of the pain. you hate it. you want it to stop. you correct kanon's grip on the baseball, spread her fingers right for a curveball. she throws damn well, better than half the boys on the team. she's an absolute demon. you love her more than anything else in the world. you catch your breath around sore ribs. what are you growing into?

she is your fragile baby best friend, the warm shadow in every childhood memory. you have loved her since the day she was born, and you will love her to the day she dies. she is the most important person in the entire world. you like to sit with her and talk and hang out and watch the years roll by together. you love her so much it physically hurts. you can never love enough for her.

"you act like we raped you," your mother screams an hour into an argument, by the time you've shut down and don't know how to keep defending yourself. shut the fuck up, bitch. this is your fault. why didn't you protect me? i loved you. i really did.

there's a girl who's more beautiful than anything in the world. she likes musicians. you love her. you want to be her. she's just kind of perfect and you hate her for being everything you want to be but then she laughs and you love her for it, too. so jealous.

your body hurts, even when you stop playing baseball entirely. you can't explain why.

you love kanon. you will die if you stay here. you're very good at splintering apart. you get a letter from hpa, and you don't talk to kanon again for nearly a year.


End file.
